


Un(reality) for two

by melissachan



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: (don't worry Hajime feeds him this time), (he somewhat succeeds), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Conversations, Despair Disease (Dangan Ronpa), Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hinata Hajime Tries, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito-centric, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Komaeda Nagito Being Komaeda Nagito, Komaeda Nagito Gets Slapped And Hugged, Komaeda Nagito Needs a Hug, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Instability, Non-Sexual Bondage, Self-Harm, Self-Hating Komaeda Nagito, Starvation, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive Hinata Hajime, Threats of Violence, implied past suicide attempt?, or an attempt to make someone stab you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28172202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissachan/pseuds/melissachan
Summary: All Nagito Komaeda really wanted was to be understood. Hajime Hinata tried to grant this wish.…or Danganronpa 2, but Hajime is 20% less tsundere 20% more smart and 100% more cool.Will be updated every 3 days. Now completed.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 35
Kudos: 395
Collections: Quality Fics





	1. Destination Hope

“Hey.”

Hajime’s voice was very sudden, enough to make Nagito flinch a little. The beach was peaceful, the sound of the waves coming up and down was calming, and nobody usually came here – a perfect place for a trash like him to sit without bothering anyone. The soft sand probably made Hajime’s steps too quiet for him to notice. Not that Nagito minded it too much – if some of the others just came from behind and put a rope against his neck, or hit him with something heavy, or plunged a knife into his back, it would have been fine, but he’d still rather prefer them to consult him first.

“Ah, Hajime. Hello there,” he answered, waving his hand, his smile cheerful as always. Hajime’s expression was bleak. It didn’t seem like he slept much, and it made Nagito wonder what was keeping him awake. He had no idea what was such a big deal, but something on the back of his mind told him that it probably was his very own behavior, and this evoked a weak pang of guilt… It didn’t matter, though. It all was necessary for Hajime’s hope to shine brighter, someday he will understand. “What are you doing here? You don’t seem like a person who likes to take random beach walks, and I got a feeling it’s not that pleasant for you to see my face either,” he said, looking at Hajime curiously, his smile staying the same as the other boy came closer.

“There is something… that keeps bothering me since… since the last trial,” Hajime answered, looking unsure, trying to avoid eye contact. His voice was tense, even more tense than when it was there in the trial room, that damned day when Byakuya Togami’s and Teruteru Hanamura’s portraits became crossed out forever. Nagito was ready to join them, as ready as ever; he was always eager to become the last in the list of his many, many victims… But Hajime didn’t seem to be here to take up his offer, so he tilted his head questioningly.

“Aw, what a shame, I almost thought you came to discuss your brilliant murder plan with me,” Nagito sighed, making Hajime’s face go red as he furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips. No wonder he’s so angry, Nagito thought. It was way, way too arrogant of him to think someone with such a bright hope inside him would need any help from a useless, incompetent idiot like himself. “So, what is it?” he asked, smiling all the same.

“Just… just what the hell were you trying to do there in the dining hall?” Hajime suddenly blurted out, probably a bit louder than he intended. Accompanying his words, he kicked the sand underneath his foot, making countless grains go up and land on his shoes and clothes, picked up by the soft, warm tropical wind, too calm, too peaceful for this cursed island.

“Huh? Didn’t you figure it all out in the trial? I was going to stab someone with that knife, but alas, Teruteru and Byakuya stopped me,” Nagito answered, shrugging, continuing to smile friendlily, but it seemed to make every muscle on Hajime’s face go even more tense.

“So you were going to stab someone. With the glowing knife. In the complete darkness,” he spoke after a short pause, seeming to take a bit of time to calm down.

“Yes, exactly! Amazing, Hajime. Is your real talent the Ultimate Analyst?” Nagito exclaimed cheerfully, attempting to sound natural. He tried to think of something reasonable to say, but every option seemed to make the truth even more clear so he just smiled, hoping Hajime would drop it.

“You were trying to get yourself killed,” Hajime spoke, now sounding calm, almost… cold. The confidence in his voice, the one that made it clear he was stating it, not asking, made every bit of Nagito’s hope to avoid this talk shatter at once. Hajime now was looking into his eyes, with a weird mix of anger and… guilt? “Your weird behavior as you were on the cleaning duty. Telling Teruteru your plan. Mentioning the floorboards, planting the glowing paint, it was all a part of it,” he continued, clenching his fist – and his every word felt like a punch, piercing a piece of armor. “Am I right?” anger returned in his intonation, making Nagito take a step back.

“And what if… you are right?” he asked, looking at the sand underneath him. Hajime came closer and stood by, putting his hands on Nagito’s shoulders. He shook him, gently, but enough to make him lift his head up. Every trace of anger disappeared – now he looked like he was about to burst into tears.

“Why?” Hajime asked quietly, clenching his shoulders tightly, almost painfully. For some reason, it felt weirdly comforting – another human nearby, slightly warm, breathing, so close…

“I… I thought I explained it all already,” Nagito answered, still keeping up his cheerfulness, as if it was enough to wash away all the worries, to rebuild the lost defense. “From all of you guys, from all the shining symbols of hope… My life is the least valuable. The world needs you, and this is why I am willing to die if it means someone, anyone, leaves this damned place,” he explained, his smile going wider, his tone becoming too weird and too forceful and too sinister – he knew he should stop it, he knew everyone hated it, but he couldn’t do anything about it anymore, now absorbed into his own words. “Nobody would care if I’m gone. Nobody would miss me, or mourn me. There is no way for me to have any value except for being your stepping stone” – he spread his hands widely, making Hajime take a step back.

“Why?” the other boy asked, very quietly, and for some reason it made Nagito stop, now looking at him in confusion. “Why would you say such a thing?” Hajime yelled at him, indecisive to come closer again, tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Huh? Am I wrong?” he asked, trying to ignore the waves of guilt spreading through his mind. Not only was he useless trash, a person with a fake talent, Hope’s Peak Academy’s mistake… but now they all also hated him… right?

“Yes you are!” – the answer was clear, clear enough to make Nagito flinch. “I… I would’ve been sad” – it seemed like Hajime was trying not to yell, but his efforts didn’t do much good. Nagito gulped, the feeling of uneasiness becoming too hard to ignore. “You… Well, honestly, you’re a weirdo!” – he looked like a puppy robbed of a treat. “But… the kind boy who was with me when I was feeling scared and confused… The one who made me feel calm and peaceful… The one who wanted to investigate the island with me, it was also you, right?!” – Hajime stared at him, as if looking for an answer, but Nagito couldn’t find the words.

“I’m not sure… Was that person even real? Or is this person before me real? I just want to understand!” – Hajime was now crying, not even bothering to try to hide it. “And if you died, I would never know… No, that’s not it…even without this… I don’t want you, or anyone else, to die,” he finished, now breathing heavily from talking too much, his cheeks red from both tears and anger. Nagito still couldn’t find any words, or any right way to react, as if the whirlwind of emotions in his head stole his very voice…

And for some reason, at the very back of his mind, behind all the guilt, there was a wrong, sickening feeling of happiness.

“I give up. Going to my cottage now… Feel free to come if you ever want to explain yourself,” Hajime spoke after a long pause, now seeming to calm down. His breathing was still heavy, and despite the soft, warm tropical sun, the look on his face made Nagito feel cold. Not waiting for the answer, he turned back, and began to walk away slowly.

“But those kinds of talks… are exactly why I didn’t want anyone to figure out,” Nagito said quietly, sounding a bit colder than he intended. Hajime turned his head to him. For a short moment he looked like he was about to return and… do something. Start another talk, perhaps. Slap him, probably. But he didn’t, and very soon his silhouette fuzzed and disappeared in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.


	2. Sea and Punishment, Sin and Mahiru's Tasty Toast That Finally Gets Eaten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags, please be mindful.

Lying on the floor without motion for so long was not the most pleasant feeling.

Nagito tried to move, to wriggle with his whole body, to change his position even for a bit. Not to free himself – he knew it was useless, and if not one, but two of the shiny, worthy Ultimates decided he’d be better off that way, who is he to argue – but to make his arms and legs feel a little less numb. Of course, he would deal with bruises and abrasions with no problems, but if it got too bad, he would become even more useless than he was now, tied up and unable to help anyone even a little, and he didn’t want such a perfectly fine stepping stone go to waste.

His stomach ached, reminding him he hadn’t eaten for… how long? Nagito had absolutely no idea, since the metal plates on the windows stopped him from seeing the daylight, but judging from the amount of sleep he got, it was about two or three days. In any case, he really, really regretted not trying any of the food Teruteru made – it all looked so good that even remembering it made his stomach growl even more pitifully.

He almost thought he shouldn’t have told Mahiru to go away and make him a better breakfast either. Almost. The hunger was unbearable, and actually seeing and smelling that hot pot of freshly cooked rice made him want to cry, but the thought of letting someone like her, a person with such a strong personality and such an ability to make everyone smile, touch his ugly, disgusting mouth was worse.

The door opened, making Nagito lift up his head a bit. He smiled – no matter how much discomfort he experienced, he shouldn’t make anyone worry about him. To his surprise, the person who came in wasn’t Mahiru Koizumi this time. It was… Hajime Hinata, holding a plate with toast and a glass of milk, along with two small packages of butter and honey. It was such simple food, but even looking at it made him want to drool. He couldn’t let that happen though, so instead he decided to greet his guest, distracting himself a bit.

“Oh, Hajime! Hello there!” he exclaimed, his voice sounding perhaps a bit too cheerful, but the other boy didn’t seem to notice, looking at him with the same annoyed expression as always. “Sorry for making someone as great as you look at something so pathetic and unworthy of your attention. Seems like Mahiru sent you to feed me, what great luck I have today,” he continued after understanding Hajime wasn’t going to answer. He sighed, coming closer to Nagito, the plate still in his hands.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for making an embodiment of hope do such a thing, dirtying their wonderful hands made for spreading hope by touching someone like me, but it seems necessary so those who left me here won’t get executed,” he said, talking a bit faster than he wanted to, as his eyes latched onto the toast. Food, he just wanted to finally get some food, just a natural need of the human body. The sudden easiness he felt definitely had nothing to do with the fact that of being touched by Hajime didn’t seem that bad at all…

“Or maybe you played that game Mahiru told me about and now came to kill me?” Nagito asked, making Hajime groan. “See, I wouldn’t mind it at all! I’d say I wouldn’t mind just dropping dead at any second, but dying such a meaningless death when there’s so many wonderful opportunities to strengthen everyone’s hope would’ve been a bit sad, so I thi–” – Hajime leaned down and put the plate on the floor with enough force to make the milk splatter, Nagito’s words drowning in the loud clang that followed.

“Seriously, what the heck is wrong with you? Cut it out!” Hajime said, the anger clear in his tone. “I’m just going to finish this quickly and go do something more useful, I got no time for listening to that nonsense,” he sighed. To Nagito’s surprise, he didn’t reach for the toast or the milk, leaning over him instead. The next second he felt how the rope fell off, freeing his legs.

“What are you doing?” he asked, confused, as Hajime continued to untie his arms. A feeling of relaxation suddenly spread through his body as it was no longer restrained, making him turn on his side, taking a more comfortable position.

“Freeing you, of course,” Hajime said with the same hint of annoyance in his voice. “And don’t get me wrong, I won’t let you actually roam freely. I just asked Monomi to give me the key to this room, so I’ll just lock you up,” he added as Nagito crawled to the wall, now taking a sitting position. His whole body ached and it was difficult to move, but the comfort it brought made him forget about the hunger, at least until his eyes latched onto the toast again.

“I mean, I can feed you, but like… You need to move, right? Bedsores and atrophied muscles are not the funnest things to deal with,” Hajime said, almost like he was trying to convince himself it was a good idea. “Besides, keeping you like this is just… unnecessarily cruel” – Nagito couldn’t answer, now stuffing the toast into his mouth with greed he wasn’t expecting of himself. “I also figured that you’d get bored, so I brought… this” – Hajime held out his hand, giving him a small colorful device with a set of buttons at each side. “That’s a video game console. I got like half a dozen of those from the MonoMono Yachine,” he explained, looking a bit awkward.

“Wow! Not only coming here to feed someone like me, but actually being worried about the well-being of someone so lowly and worthless? You’re not only the Ultimate Serenity, you’re also the Ultimate Compassion!” Nagito exclaimed, making Hajime groan again. He looked at the device, feeling… weird. He knew he didn’t deserve it, he knew he made Hajime waste the time and effort instead of doing something useful, or fun, or hopeful, but god, why did it feel so good? “Videogames are fun, although I prefer to spend my time reading books,” he suddenly said, trying to distract himself.

“Books? What kind of books?” Hajime asked, looking at him seriously. Nagito took the second piece of toast, putting the butter and honey on it.

“I love murder mystery books the most. Although I read a bit of nonfiction and science literature as well,” he answered, not putting much thought into it. Actually holding the food in his hands made the hunger stronger, and he didn’t know it was even possible…

“Wait there, I’ll get you some,” Hajime said, getting up. Hearing that almost made Nagito choke on the toast out of surprise as he watched the other boy stand up and head to the door. No, you shouldn’t, you wasted way more time and energy and kindness on me than I will ever deserve today, he wanted to say, but Hajime already closed the door, locking it from the other side with a quiet soft clang…

Nagito waited, looking at the door. Hajime was taking longer than he expected. He turned on the console and tried to find something like a clock, or a calendar at least, but he there wasn’t anything like this in that weird device. Hajime probably decided to just leave him, he suspected, and that’s probably for the best – no, really, that was more of a comforting thought than an unpleasant one. He got up and walked around a bit, more to give his stiff and numb muscles some work than anything, when he heard the door opening again.

“Hello again, Hajime!” he spoke, as the other boy came in, looking like he was out of breath. He really was holding a couple of books and some piece of a heavy-looking cloth this time, making Nagito feel a pang of guilt again. Just, what drove him to do all of this? Was it the same thing that made people suddenly give him sad looks when they hear about his absolutely normal and logical desire to trade his worthless life for something more valuable, something that could bring the slightest ray of hope to the world?

“Hello… Can’t promise they’re any good, but these are all I could find in the library,” Hajime said, putting the books on the floor. Nagito wanted to thank him… but every word in his head seemed either not enough or too overdramatic. “So, you like murder mysteries?” Hajime suddenly asked, as if he wanted to end the awkward pause between them.

“Yes,” Nagito answered unsurely. “What about it?” – he made several steps back and sat down, leaning against the wall in the most comfortable position he could get in this empty room.

“Why is that?” Hajime asked, looking at him a bit more intently than Nagito expected.

“I like everything that makes you think, I suppose,” he answered unconfidently. “I also like the… unique relationships between the author and the reader they create. The balance between deceiving them and at the same time giving them a chance to figure everything out,” he added, putting his finger on his chin. “In a novel I read recently, the murderer creates different scenarios specifically to give the main character a chance to understand not only “whodunit” and “howdunit”, but also their motive… and them as a person. And I feel like… this is what the author of the mystery should do, even if their character doesn’t want this in-universe,” he spoke, now noticing that Hajime was staring at him thoughtfully, listening to every word with a surprising amount of attention.

“I once read a story where the mystery was about if a human did it, or an ancient god’s curse… And by the end it turned out that the ancient god did exist, but it was a nice sweet girl who begged people to stop as they slaughtered each other in her name. Was pretty cool,” Nagito continued to talk. Hajime frowned slightly… damn, he must’ve said something weird or stupid again.

“So you can talk like a normal person when you want to,” Hajime stated with a quiet sigh. Nagito felt his face turn hot and red. “Sorry, I was never a fan of this genre, so I don’t have that much to answer,” he added, scratching the back of his head.

“Huh? I wouldn’t think that, given how easily you solved ours with Teruteru’s mystery,” Nagito said, looking up at Hajime. For some reason, it made the anger return to his eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know a smart, hopeful and talented person like you doesn’t need to know every trick in the book to solve the mystery,” he added, attempting to fix his mistake, but it made Hajime’s face look even more displeased.

“That’s not it!” he said, waving his hand angrily. “Just… don’t compare it to that. You know, Nagito, people actually died for it. It’s not some kind of… an entertaining story” – Hajime looked at the floor, his tone becoming less furious and more sad with each word.

“I… I see…” Nagito answered, fighting with the desire to make Hajime finally understand that their sacrifice was definitely worthy, and meaningful, and not a sad thing at all… But something at the back of his mind told him that it was the wrong time and place for it.

“Glad you understand,” Hajime said, his face softening a bit. “I’d be happy to read those stories we were talking about… when we get out of here,” he added, looking weirdly determined.

Hajime wanted to… leave this place? With him? With them both being alive? No, it was too good of a thought. He just meant this in general, Nagito was sure.

“Anyway, now I think I need to go. Everyone’s probably worried about me already,” Hajime spoke. “Oh, before I forget, take this too” – he put the piece of cloth he was holding the whole time on the floor. “It’s a blanket… It was just lying there in the library so it doesn’t seem like anyone needs it. Figured that sleeping on the floor wouldn’t be the most comfortable experience…” – Hajime paused, suddenly looking straight into Nagito’s eyes. “Moreover, you look like you’re cold… Always cold,” he added thoughtfully, and for some reason it made Nagito gulp.

“Before I go, need anything else?” Hajime asked, heading to the door.

“Some more food… please,” Nagito answered, accompanied by his stomach growling loudly again. Hajime smiled with a nod, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank Izum for beta read and Tunie for helping to catch errors.
> 
> Yes, I just made Nagito refer to Higurashi and Umineko, because I can.


	3. Set Free by the Ocean Scent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags and the archive warning, be mindful.

Nagito’s mind was reeling, his ears were ringing and his eyes fluttered around the room nervously as he sat on the hospital bed, with Hajime standing nearby, looking at him with an expression of a clear, unfiltered concern. He must not lie. He must not lie. He must not say stupid bullshit. He must just control his body, and his mouth and tongue were just other parts of it. Collect your thoughts, then say what you think. It was that simple.

“Leave me alone. I hate you. I can’t stand seeing your stupid face anymore.”

The words left without his permission, and all he wanted now was to grab his head and shake it with all his strength, or to smash it against the wall, or to drop his body against the floor with all his might so he would break his jaw and stop speaking forever… But his limbs weren’t moving, and all he could do was look at Hajime with a silly smile, drooling slightly as the other boy sighed, staring at him, a hint of curiosity suddenly making its way into his expressions.

“What are you waiting for? Do you want me to vomit from seeing your stupid face? I bet you’re actually not even a symbol of hope; you’re a worthless, talentless piece of trash. Erase yourself from this world and replace that pathetic loser you are with someone better,” – more words escaped from Nagito, and he wanted to put his hand on his lips, to take the bedsheet and stuff it into his throat, to take a bottle of acid and drink it so nothing would leave his dirty, disgusting mouth ever again, but all he could do instead was look into Hajime’s eyes. For a split second he seemed… hurt, really hurt, even more than he was in that trial, when he learned about Nagito’s role in it, and it made him want to rip off his own tongue with his bare hands. But it lasted just a split second, before Hajime suddenly smiled at him warmly.

“Wow, you want me to stay that badly? Not that I have nothing better to do… But if you’re begging like this, then I think I have no choice,” he sighed, coming closer, sitting down on the bed nearby. Feeling his presence that close made Nagito’s head spin. It was too near. Too personal. Almost about to touch him. Almost like he could give in and put his head on Hajime’s shoulder, and fall asleep peacefully… Feeling his coarse, spiky hair tickle his ear lightly… It was pleasant… Why was it so pleasant?

The thoughts consumed him, and he noticed it too late when his body began to fall down. He tried to direct it to the side, so he lands on the pillow and not on the floor, or, even worse, on Hajime, but…

“Hey, be careful. You’re very weak and we don’t want to give Mikan more trouble,” Hajime said, smiling, lightly holding Nagito’s shoulders, keeping him sitting upright. His hands were warm and soft, and feeling them suddenly made Nagito’s mind calm and peaceful, almost ready to fall asleep. “So try to not fall and bruise yourself, okay?” Hajime said, his tone slightly worried, as he pulled Nagito a bit closer to himself.

“Don’t touch me with your disgusting hands, you filthy, unworthy idiot. Every second I feel them on me feels like a torture. If I spend one more minute in your presence, I swear, it would make me lose my will to live, and your voice will haunt me in my nightmares,” Nagito blurted out, suddenly even for himself, his body feeling numb, every muscle going weak and limp. It was hard to breathe, and for the first time since he arrived on Jabberwock Island, he felt hot, overheated, almost as if his body was burning. His body began to shake weakly. He will die here, right? This is the place where his pathetic life ends… And the last thing Hajime hears from him will be those awful, bitter words.

This thought suddenly made him want to cry, but his face didn’t reflect this feeling either, instead making his dumb disgusting smile grow bigger.

“So it means… My touches made you regain your will to live and my voice comes to you in your sweet dreams?” Hajime asked, half-flattered, half surprised. Nagito’s face got hot, and it wasn’t from his body temperature rising up this time. “If so… I think I don’t mind being closer for a while,” he added, pulling him near again, holding him gently with one arm.

“The only positive of it is that you might catch the Despair Disease from me and die! Yes, my talent will surely make it happen, and it would be such amazing luck,” Nagito spoke again, his own tone – cheerful, almost like he wanted to burst into laughter – making him flinch. Hajime looked at him with a mix of confusion and surprise, and then smiled calmly again.

“Oh, that does make sense, I probably shouldn’t get that close,” he said, scratching the back of his head. But, contrary to his own words, he didn’t let go, instead wrapping his other hand around Nagito’s shoulders, now cuddling him tightly. His body was soft, and it made Nagito relax unwillingly, now leaning against him, letting himself enjoy the moment. He could feel his heartbeat: strong, methodical, probably a bit faster than normal, but nothing compared to his own heart, racing rapidly.

“Aw, I’m sorry,” Hajime said, sounding playful, without the slightest hint of remorse in his voice. He leaned back, still not letting go, but now gently putting Nagito’s body, still way too weak and limp, on the bed. “God, you’re hot… Um… I mean, your body temperature,” he said awkwardly, and although Nagito couldn’t see his face, he was sure he was blushing, scratching the back of his head again. “I know you probably feel overheated already, but we need to keep your body warm, so please understand,” he said, fiddling with something on the other side of the bed. The next second Nagito felt the weight of a pretty heavy warm blanket on him, as Hajime tucked it in carefully.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here. I’ll just sit on that chair on the other side of the room and will watch you until Mikan arrives, okay?” Hajime asked, his tone starting to become worried again. “Don’t worry… Monokuma is forbidden from actually killing any one of us. So I’m sure it’ll get better. Just hold on a little bit longer,” he added, probably trying to calm himself down just as much as he was attempting to comfort Nagito. His breathing became a bit easier, but the waves of weakness were getting worse with every second, and he felt like he couldn’t get up no matter how hard he would try.

Hajime put his hand on his forehead… then pressed his lips against his cheek lightly, giving him a soft, pleasant kiss. Body temperature, he was just checking his body temperature, nothing more, Nagito was sure, but his face went red nonetheless. He turned his head to the side, burying his nose into the pillow, in a pathetic attempt to hide it. “So, try to sleep and regain your strength,” Hajime said, not noticing – or pretending not to notice – his pitiful efforts. Nagito still wanted him to stay, and he hated it, hated it, hated it, it was an awful wish, so selfish, it would be horrible if Hajime got the disease and gave Mikan more work or if he got it really bad and had to stay in bed, if he experienced all that weakness and shortness of breath and temperature and everything, and…!

And died. Nagito wasn’t sure why he suddenly was so hesitant to let his thought into his mind. Everyone he wanted to stay with him had always died, one by one.

“Hope you’ll get well soon,” Hajime spoke quietly, as if he was thinking Nagito might be sleeping already. Then he took a step back, now making himself comfortable in the chair.

Nagito struggled not to answer, trying to stop his tongue from creating another terrible, twisted, hurtful lie and bring it to reality. This time he succeeded, as his weak, failing body succumbed to the pleasant unconsciousness faster than he could form a single word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.


	4. Do Ultimate Lucky Students Dream of Love Confessions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags, please be mindful.

“I was fine with it when I was healthy, but it would be lonely to die alone…”

The room was bright. Too bright. It made Nagito head spin, although he wasn’t sure if it was from those awful, acidic colors twisting the walls and the furniture and everything that was in the Funhouse into a mess with the single purpose of making people go insane, if not from the hunger and the lack of sleep. He tried to concentrate on Hajime’s face, the only thing that looked familiar, and normal, and comforting in this hell of wonderlands. The other boy stared narrowly into his eyes.

“So, it was a weird thought. Never would have thought it’d appear in my mind. But now, when I feel death coming closer and closer, all I want is… someone to love me. Or at least, to understand me,” he said quietly. The weight of his words suddenly got to him, but he understood it all too late. Hajime looked at him seriously, and he expected to see a familiar glint of pity in his eyes, but what he saw instead was genuine concern. For some reason that’s even worse, and he turned his head away, looking at the palm of his hand, unable to bear seeing the other boy’s eyes.

“Or… maybe it was something I read in a book,” he said calmly, smiling, waving his hand as usual. He definitely told him too much. It probably was the hunger, and the sleep deprivation, and those stupid walls, green and pink and green and pink and green and pink and grape and strawberry. And his genuine desire to have someone believe him, have someone take him seriously, have someone love him, but he would never let those dumb feelings control him. He knew he didn’t deserve any of that. But he hoped he at least was worthy or of someone who will make him a good and appreciable sacrifice for them. So, it must’ve been hunger. Definitely hunger.

Hajime made a step forward. His motions seemed slow, but Nagito was not sure if it was because he was hungry and powerless too or because his own mind was just processing things like that. Without words, Hajime lifted up his hand and gave Nagito a strong, sonorous slap on the face, enough to make him turn his head away.

It didn’t feel painful, though. His cheek just got numb and red, as he looked at Hajime, blinking in surprise, the flashing images of his face surrounded by green and pink and green and pink and green and pink and warm and dear to his heart almost making him feel nauseous.

“Why did you lie?” Hajime asked, quietly, but his low voice just made it sound more clear in the silent empty hallway.

“Aw, that. I just wanted some of your sympathy, I guess. Wanted to know how it felt,” Nagito answered carelessly, making a step back in confusion.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Hajime asked again, lifting up his head and looking him into the eyes. Nagito gulped, making another step back instinctively. He was so stupid, upsetting a shining symbol of hope with his problems unworthy of anyone’s attention.

“Of course not,” he answered reassuringly, a look of worry on his face. “I would not ever think that about someone chosen by the Hope’s Peak Academy, ever,” he said, clenching his hand and putting it on his chest.

“Damn it, not this again,” Hajime groaned, his quiet fury giving up its place to a good old annoyance. “Forget about damn Hope’s Peak Academy. Do you think I am stupid? Or do you think I don’t care?” he asked, now staring at Nagito seriously.

“No,” he answered without thinking, making Hajime’s face soften. For some reason he felt a chill go down his spine.

“Good. I believe you,” Hajime smiled, coming closer. “Now, knowing I’m not stupid and I do care about you, which part of everything you said was a lie?” he asked, frowning slightly, a look of concern returning to his expression.

“The part…” – Nagito gulped nervously, struggling to find the right words. His mind screamed, and his very being begged him, no, don’t do this, don’t pull Hajime closer, don’t drag him deeper into this mess than he already is, he wouldn’t last long, your luck will do him in and if it won’t, your delusional mind and awful personality and ugly face and disgusting voice and your utter uselessness will bring him down forever, but…

But he gave up.

“The part with the book, I think,” he said awkwardly, looking at his hand again. It was a convenient place to look; anywhere but Hajime’s eyes and those green and pink walls

“You think?” Hajime asked, sighing, but the expression on his face was one of relief. “See, I know why you would… not want anyone to know those things,” he said, his voice soft and calming. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want that either. It is difficult to make someone you know, and someone who is dear to you, go through this. But making yourself go through it alone, not letting anyone help, is even worse,” he added, clenching his fist with a weird determination in his eyes, like when he was talking about how they all would leave that place, alive and well, without needing to sacrifice anyone. “And for me, making you go through this alone is way more painful than… any alternatives,” he spoke softly, but firmly. In a tone that made Nagito want to believe him.

“I see…” – Nagito was bad at finding the words, but he mustered enough courage to look back into Hajime’s eyes. The other boy smiled at him affectionately. He came close, touching his cheek gently.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this,” Hajime said, sounding way more remorseful than he probably needed to.

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing, really…” – Nagito smiled, as Hajime’s warm fingers against his cheek made it tingle, slightly. The spot was still red. Hajime frowned.

“What you should do first is stop this ‘I’m okay if people hurt me’ stuff,” he sighed, putting his hand on Nagito’s shoulder. Nagito looked at him with confusion, and for some reason it made Hajime’s eyebrows furrow more in displeasure.

“But why?” Nagito asked, looking at him seriously. “Isn’t it just a logical thing, I mean? If I’m worthless, at least I can make someone else worthy? Like, if someone had a bunch of sticks, a ragged cloth, and an old hat, he could make a scarecrow from it, making a worthless thing into a worthy one?” – or burn it all to get some warmth, he wanted to say, but didn’t. Hajime sighed.

“That’s… that’s not it at all…” – He looked resentful, almost as if it was he himself who’s being called trash. “Don’t compare people to garbage!” – Hajime’s body got tense; Nagito could clearly feel it standing so close to him.

“But they are! Those poor fools, powerless to change anything, deluding themselves that hard work will get them somewhere, will let them change the world, how pathetic,” he said, shrugging, a weird hint of gleefulness sneaking into his voice as he continued to ramble. “But hey, as least they can be useful! Me, though? My literal destiny is to bring misery and pain upon anyone I meet! That’s all I’m good for!” he exclaimed loudly, almost sounding like was proud of it. Hajime’s hand relaxed as he pulled it away. Nagito wanted him to slap his face again, stronger, with all his power, maybe then his luck will make him fall and snap his neck, or crack his skull, and then Hajime will escape, finally, someone would leave this cursed island…!

Hajime wrapped both of his arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His warm body was shaking weakly, but only by the tone of his voice did Nagito understand that he was crying.

“Stop it,” he said, softly, but sternly, voice remaining clear. “Stop comparing people… to those weird things. And stop comparing yourself… to those weird things as well,” he added, cuddling Nagito closer, making all his words and all his counterarguments stick in his throat, and even his thoughts go empty, thinking about nothing but Hajime’s gentle hands and his arms on his back and the warmth of his body. “And even if you won’t stop… You’re my ragged cloth that I will patch to the end of time, and I will never throw it away, or burn it, or make a scarecrow of it, because… it’s dear to me,” he said seriously. The comparison made Nagito’s face red and hot again, his embarrassment doing a good job at hiding his amusement.

“So, please, stop,” – Hajime looked into his eyes, without interrupting the hug. Nagito didn’t remember when he started to hold him back. “I said it earlier and I repeat: I don’t want you to get hurt, or to die” – he pursed his lips and that weird aura of determination returned to him again. It brought… a truly pleasant, hopeful feeling in Nagito’s mind. Even for a second, he could just enjoy it, getting lost in the moment, closing his eyes and putting his head on Hajime’s shoulder. Only when the other boy leaned back, he remembered…

He knew he didn’t deserve it.

“I love you,” he said, a bit too simply for those powerful words, but for some reason they came out easily, like it was something always meant to be said. Hajime smiled…

Before he could understand, Hajime pulled him into another hug, silencing his worries with a gentle kiss.

All his doubts were gone. He knew it now.

If he gets to the Strawberry house ever again, he will go into the Final Dead Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.


	5. Smile at Hope in the Name of Despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags, please be mindful. This chapter also contains graphic, detailed descriptions of self-harm so be extra mindful, please.

“Really, you shouldn’t worry about me. Just go and have fun with the others,” Nagito said, smiling. The hotel lobby was quiet, and nobody was there except Hajime. Why did he come? Wasn’t Nagito clear enough about not wanting to have anything to do with any of them? He probably should’ve tried to shoo him off harder, way harder, but he couldn’t summon the past feelings of rage and betrayal, to fuel all the hurtful things he could think about. He just got worn out, his mind weirdly clear, now completely focused on the plan.

After all, he is no better than any of them himself, so what right did he have to pretend to feel so hurt and disgusted by their actions?

“No!” Hajime exclaimed loudly, anger flashing in his eyes, as he kicked the floor underneath. Nagito looked at him with surprise. “I refuse,” he said, trying to calm down, tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes.

“Why not? Do you want something from me?” Nagito asked casually, expression unchanged. For some reason, his nonchalant tone made Hajime look more hurt and enraged than any of his previous remarks ever could as he came closer, his resentment clear in each loud footstep.

“Yes, I do,” he blurted out, tone almost sarcastic, like he was saying something obvious and self-evident. “Just what the hell happened to you?!” he exclaimed, the anger and sadness mixing up in his voice still making Nagito feel a pang of guilt, and he had no idea why would it have such an effect, because even the thought of killing them didn’t seem to do the same. He sighed, trying to shrug off that weird sensation… god, why was there no switch in his head to stop caring about that stupid red face, about those oddly keen, but kind eyes, about that spiky, pleasantly tickling hair.

Right now, he could as well have been tying up his arms and legs, applying knots slowly with one hand, the spear’s cord already in his grip.

But he didn’t, as he continued wasting time with Hajime. “And I don’t. Leave me alone,” he said firmly, trying not to look at the other boy. It got harder as he came closer, almost like he wanted to pull him into another hug…

“Back off,” Nagito snarled at him, pulling out the army knife that he already had prepared long ago. Hajime stopped, looking at it with more confusion than fear. “I don’t want to kill you and die a dumb death from being executed, but come any closer and I will use it,” Nagito said, his tone friendly, but serious. Hajime seemed to hesitate.

Right now, Nagito could as well have been lifting up that knife above himself. He did hesitate, especially before the first stab, when he sat there for a good minute, looking at the blade until the anxiety became more unbearable than any pain he could imagine. Then he swung his arm as quickly as he could. The feeling of one’s skin being torn up a bit was probably familiar to any person, but the agonizing sensation of the muscles and tendons and vessels getting ruptured as the knife was tearing through them all alike was like nothing he ever felt before. His scream, even muffled by the tape, echoed through the room, ringing in his ears more than the loud, roaring music.

Right now, he could as well have been preparing to pull it out, the thought of doing it all again and again and again making him shiver, even though he knew it was what he deserved.

But he didn’t, as Hajime continued to come closer, still looking a bit unsure. “You won’t,” he said, trying to hide his anxiety, but his voice was giving him away, every hint of anger and sadness washed away by the fear. He made a step forward.

“What makes you think so?” Nagito asked, his tone sounding curious and almost amused. He looked at the knife, playing with it in his hands, hoping his luck would stop him from accidentally losing a finger.

“Because…” – Hajime came close, dangerously close. Despite being the one with the knife, it was Nagito who needed to take a step back. Hearing Hajime’s voice, seeing his face, letting him touch his cheek, hugging him, kissing him; it was all too much, it could make him give up, and he couldn’t, he didn’t want to…!

Why was he even so hesitant? His plan would end up with Hajime, and all the other people he had called his friends and his classmates, dead anyway. Except the traitor. He didn’t know who it was, but he knew for sure it couldn’t have been Hajime. What a terrible luck it was to be aware of that. Damn that notebook for stripping him from the only delusion that would bring him any comfort. In the Funhouse, he was still clinging to the pathetic chance of “dying for the sake of his beloved”, how stupid, how childish, how pathetic it was. Nagito looked at the knife…

Right now, he should have been staring at this very knife in his hand, already covered in his own warm blood, and gripping it tighter. Pulling it out was almost worse than plunging it in. His shaky hands probably didn’t help, making the knife disturb already wounded flesh, all his instincts telling him to stop. He thought it would be way easier, way faster, a quick succession of stabs and slashes. In reality, he just wanted it to end already, despite the fact that it had just began. But he couldn’t. There was no going back now.

There was no going back the moment he read the files.

Right now, he could as well have been taking a deep breath, preparing himself for another wave of excruciating pain. It didn’t make it any more bearable when he swung his arm again until it hit something soft – and his mind registered that this something was his own flesh, ruptured way too easily by the sharp steel. He cried out, writhing, screaming until he was gasping for breath, thankful that the tape made all the sounds muffled, too weak to be heard. His leg jerked – or at least tried to, held back by the rope, but it was enough for the blade to press against the muscles, buried deeply into the flesh, evoking another weak attempt to shout.

Right now, he should have been pulling the knife out as fast as he could. He was trying to catch his breath, desperately needing a break, but it didn’t stop him from bringing the knife down again. His body was fighting against itself, making him try to jerk his hand away before the blow, to move his leg out of its way, to do anything just to make it stop, but he struggled against it, moving his arm down in another shaky motion. He missed the spot a bit, making the tip of the knife press against the already open wound, and the sensation was unbearable; the feeling of the burning, violent agony was so bad it made him drag the knife away way faster than he should…

Right now, he could’ve been screaming, yelling. It was loud, so loud that he was hearing it despite the gag, feeling the tape stretching out around his mouth. He could almost call it relieving, painfully comforting, his pathetic cries and thrown-back neck and arched back distracting him from the pain, if it wasn’t for his throat starting to get dry and sore.

Nagito’s head was spinning, and he tried to shake it, as if that could help him to see anything but red. The new injury was not even half as deep as the other ones… Bad… Suspicious… He was weak. Why was he so weak? He knew that if he ever wanted to clean himself from despair, to earn the world’s forgiveness, he needed to endure any punishment prepared for him. Everything was deserved. In fact, he deserved way worse.

And yet, he decided to just leave it like this, hoping Hajime and the others wouldn’t actually check.

Right now, he should have been swinging the knife again, trying to hold it more steadily. With the fourth stab, he realized that the pain started to get weaker. Probably because of the severed nerves, or just from getting used to it, perhaps. With the fifth one, he was slowly regaining his ability to think straight. With the sixth blow, he felt like the new pang of pain was nothing compared to the lingering feeling of agony from the previous wounds…

With the sixteenth one, he realized there was no place on his right leg he could reach that wasn’t already ripped apart and covered in deep bleeding injuries. He felt the blood soaking his clothes, making them wet and sticky, and sensed it flowing down to the floor. At the beginning of it, it was just slightly warm. Now it felt almost hot, as his skin was getting colder, somehow paler than it already was.

Right now he could as well have been trembling in fear, realizing it was less than half of what needed to be done.

But he didn’t, instead desperately trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with the situation he found himself in. He could’ve just listened to Hajime, then waited until he’s gone, then continued with the plan. He could’ve done this, it was so easy, or it would be so easy if Hajime wasn’t so kind to him, so supportive, so understanding, so willing to listen and to reach out. Even now, he was still trying to do this, despite everything Nagito did and said to him, despite every insult, both accidental and those carefully chosen to sting as deeply as possible. Despite the fact that he was threatening his very life, along with the lives of all his friends.

Nagito didn’t deserve him.

Why was he still thinking about Hajime in this way, Nagito wondered. He was supposed to be an enemy, a living incarnation of despair. He was an awful, evil person; Nagito knew it for a fact. And yet he was there, so dear and so close and still wanting to talk to him, to figure him out already. Why was he so stubborn with this?

He should’ve just tricked him, saying it’s alright now and he doesn’t want to hurt anyone anymore. Thinking about it, it would have made the plan even more likely to work by decreasing the chance of them starting to suspect any malicious intent from him.

But he knew himself and he knew that he couldn’t. The moment he let Hajime come closer, he would lose. He would succumb to his selfish wishes and give up.

He wanted to give up.

He let the thought of abandoning everything, of betraying hope, not the first, but the second time, invade his mind. The realization started to sink in, and he pointed the knife at Hajime. Why was the idea of hurting him directly was still so unbearable?

“Seriously, don’t get any closer,” Nagito said, all his energy directed at keeping his composure. He hoped Hajime couldn’t read him well enough to understand how panicked and conflicted he was. “As I said earlier, I don’t want to actually kill you, so I’ll aim at your non-vital points, but hey, knowing my luck, anything could happen” – he wanted to laugh cheerfully, but the sound that escaped was more of a cough. “So, can you make it easier and just go away?” – he didn’t understand when his tone had become pleading, almost desperate.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

Just go away.

Just come closer, come closer, ignore everything I said, just be with me for now, hold me closer.

Hajime flinched, pausing for a bit, his whole body tense and sweat running down his forehead. Nagito gulped, watching him in anticipation. Hajime made another step forward, making him feel both fear and relief… and regret, regret that he didn’t just go to that damn warehouse earlier.

Right now, he could as well have been there, finishing with his second leg. At first each wound brought him a feeling of sharp, intense pain. Now those feelings were slowly transforming into an overall agonizing sensation that felt like it was covering every muscle in his thighs. His legs started to get numb, he noticed with relief. He needed to do something with his arm now, he remembered, getting dizzy from the blood loss, breathing heavily through his nose.

Right now, he could as well have been tracing the blade down across his shoulder, barely having energy to make the knife even rip through the fabric of his jacket, leaving a shallow, bleeding cut. His screams died down to weak pitiful whimpers, barely audible even for his own ears.

Right now, he could as well have remembered the most painful part is yet to come.

But he didn’t, as Hajime was coming closer and closer, making Nagito take a step back with each of his steps forward. Nagito soon found himself pressed against the wall, the knife still in his hand. Hajime now looked at him a bit more confidently as he made the final step forward. Their noses were almost touching each other. Carefully, Hajime put his palm on the blade of the knife, then gently took it from Nagito’s hand. Nagito looked at it, almost feeling like he was unable to move as the other boy sighed with relief and tossed the weapon across the room. He heard it hit the wall with a clang.

“See?” Hajime asked, wrapping his arms around Nagito’s shoulders, holding him, tears standing in his eyes. “God, it was pretty scary, I must admit,” the other boy spoke softly, laughing a little. That was almost enough to make Nagito smile in return. “But I believed in you,” he said, sounding weirdly solemn, before cuddling him closer. “Always believed, and it always will be this way” – Hajime was crying now; Nagito could hear it in his voice.

At this very moment, he could’ve been raising his hand above the knife standing blade-up. His breathing was heavy and ragged. His body quivered weakly – he didn’t know if it was from the pain or from the fear, or probably both. He really, really, didn’t want to do it. It wasn’t even necessary for the plan. He could as well have tossed the knife aside and left it at that, waiting for the poison to bring him mercy…

He slammed his hand down with all the power that was left in his broken body.

The pain came delayed, and it felt almost like the time it took for his brain to process it made it worse. His immediate reaction, the instinct that stops people from accidentally hurting themselves, made him try to jerk his hand back, to get it away from whatever was attacking. His arm twitched, lifting up instinctively, but the weight of the knife brought it down, the metal screeching against the floor. Only then did he scream, and before that he was ready to swear he was unable to do so anymore. His body wriggled in convulsions, trembling, no longer in his control, his fingers twitching as the pool of blood underneath his palm was getting wider.

Right now, he could have been slowly regaining his composure, barely keeping himself conscious, tossing the toy away with a swift movement and stretching out his arm to make it look like it was tied up, hoping to do it before the flash of adrenaline wears out.

But he didn’t, instead hugging Hajime in return, trying to keep his warm body closer. He was crying – not from pain or fear, but from happiness, feeling his gentle touches and listening to his soothing words. Hajime leaned back a bit, to look right into Nagito’s eyes.

“I knew it all along. It’s because you love me. And, no matter how much you want to deny it, I love you.”

Hajime Hinata never said that.

He smiled warmly, as if Nagito didn’t threaten him with the knife a couple minutes ago. As if he didn’t try to scare him and his friends with the bomb. As if he didn’t spend the last few days insulting him and putting him down at every chance he had. He still stood there with open arms, welcoming him back.

Hajime Hinata never did that.

Hajime Hinata never approached him on the beach. Probably never figured out his real scheme either. The ones who took the effort to take care of him and keep him from starving were Mahiru Koizumi, and Monomi, the teacher. Hajime Hinata never was able to figure out his lies, whether they were caused by the disease or said voluntarily. Even if he did, he never bothered to explain it.

Right now Hajime Hinata was probably having fun with the others. Well, searching around, chasing after the non-existent bombs was not exactly fun, but…

Nagito let out a quiet, short sob. From the pain, surely, only from that. The torture had ended long ago, and most of his body felt numb and distant, but the burning sensation all over it was still nothing short of agony. He knew he deserved it all. To suffer until his last breath; a fitting end for him.

Even now, why was his mind still clinging to Hajime Hinata?

He didn’t know how much time had passed, or how much he had left. Minutes passed, and he felt like each of them was an hour. Or maybe those really were hours? Nagito was not sure. He was trying not to move, but his body was still trembling, with occasional convulsive motions shaking him up. Something was breaking inside him, he could tell. He had tried to make the blood loss slow, with the stab wounds facing upwards and the knife remaining impaled into his hand, making the bleeding weaker. All to hold on long enough for the traitor to kill him. All for the sake of fixing his mistake.

He’ll die alone.

All he wanted now was to hear Hajime’s voice once again.

Hajime wasn’t perfect. Hajime was, in reality, just a scared, stupid kid. But he tried to help. Even if it was not enough, he really tried. He didn’t understand, but he wanted to understand; he was trying to understand. He needed just a little bit more time.

Or that was what Nagito chose to think.

Finally, he heard a sound that was not the repeating music. It was the roar of a fire as the curtain ignited to his right, the blaze chasing away the creeping darkness. All Nagito could see was his own blood. He tried not to look, staring at the ceiling instead. There were voices… Akane and Kazuichi, yelling loudly, but he still couldn’t make out the words. Sonia mentioned the fire grenades…

It will end soon, and he didn’t know if that brought more fear or relief.

He just wanted a confirmation that Hajime Hinata was real. That he did care in his own awkward way. It was so pathetic. The way was he still clinging to this idiot, this moron, this traitor… Sadly, not the one from the Future Foundation – instead he betrayed the very idea of hope.

But Hajime did come to him in that hospital. He volunteered to help Mikan. He helped him to get up, and assisted him as they went there… That was all reality, right?

Something whistled. The sound of broken glass followed. The fire was closer than Nagito thought, and he suddenly felt hot, even more than he previously did with the disease. The smoke filled his nose and the music continued to play. The poison was probably spreading from somewhere already.

For some reason, he tried to hold his breath.

He wanted to stay there just for a bit longer, just to hear something, anything that Hajime would say. It didn’t matter what. It didn’t matter how. He just was clinging to this irrational, pathetic wish.

No matter who Hajime Hinata was, Nagito loved him.

His body grew too weak. He felt like his consciousness was about to leave him at any second as his vision now filled with colorful flickering spots. The spear was dangling above him – that was all he could see… He closed his eyes… Just the sounds. Focus on the sounds. On hearing Hajime’s sweet voice once again.

The next thing he felt was his hand slipping.

The flash of fear in his mind was not fast enough to make him tighten his grip again. Before the blow, all he could do was scream.

The pain didn’t come this time. All that followed was a cacophony of sounds, of all kinds of things in the human body getting torn apart and destroyed. The wet, sickening noise of steel going through his skin and flesh was all too familiar, but the loud crunch that followed still made Nagito flinch, something primordial inside him saying it was not right. He just hoped that it was his ribcage, not his spine. Why so, he had no idea, as he knew a long time ago it was the end for him anyway.

Unable to hold on any longer, he finally took a deep breath.

He expected the poisonous gas to burn his lungs, to make him choke, but instead it just made him feel sleepy and numb. His body finally stopped shaking, all his sensations fading away slowly. For some reason, he opened his eyes again. The sounds, he was still trying to focus on the sounds…

The voices didn’t come again, and soon the fire and even the music faded away, as if he was hearing them through a wall of water. As his consciousness finally left him, all that remained was his own muffled scream that was ringing loudly in his ears until it got stuck in his throat, his expression distorted into a look of fear and agony.

No matter what Hajime could think or feel about him, seeing that expression engraved on his face brought him nothing but guilt, regrets and nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Izum for beta read.
> 
> I am literally and physically incapable of writing a happy ending, sorry.


	6. The Day Before the Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags, please be mindful.  
> This Chapter wasn't originally planned so I'm sorry if marking it as completed and then updating the fic again confused someone.

“Hey, can you hear me…?”

Of course, Hajime knew nobody in the room could hear him, but it felt right to ask this question anyway. He looked at the person behind the glass pod with an expression that could be described as a weird mix of both hope and resignation, determination and fatalism. He will work on it. He will, eventually, wake everyone up. He just knew it wouldn’t happen right now, as some sort of magical miracle. After all, if something as small as words would be enough to break a person out of a deep trauma-induced coma caused by their brain accepting they were dead, why would anyone train doctors and nurses and surgeons?

He wasn’t sure why he kept coming there, because it made no sense, and the fact that he was actively trying to talk to someone who gives him as much of a reaction as the wall of glass between them made even less sense, but…

It would be just too sad to leave Nagito completely alone.

So Hajime came to visit him… occasionally. Not every day, like Sonia did with Gundham, or Fuyuhiko – with Peko. But definitely more often than to anyone else on that island. Recognizing it made him feel… weird. He sighed, unknowingly placing his hand against the glass, tapping his fingers slightly. Of course, there’s no reaction.

“Why do I still want to talk to you so much?” Hajime asked, talking to both himself and the boy in the pod. Really, why? By all logical means, he should hate him. His rational mind told him to fear him. He knew it was weird, to hold this much attachment to someone who tried to kill you twice. And yet…

All his efforts to hate Nagito was always weak and vain, and all the grudges he could hold vanished the second he saw the boy’s dead body. When he came closer and closer to the truth behind the murder, he still felt fear, and anger, and he wanted to yell that this was messed up and wrong and not fair and what the actual fuck, but… As soon as he said final goodbyes and stumbled to his cottage, barely awake, trying to forget that day like it was a bad dream, all that was left was just sadness and guilt and inability to comprehend why in the world would anyone wish – and not only wish, but also actively inflict – that awful torture upon themselves.

At least now he looked peaceful, sleeping behind the pod, lying without movements except for his chest raising up and down, showing that he’s still breathing, still alive, that there’s still some hope for him left. His face was calm, eyes and mouth closed, with no signs of any pain or fear and discomfort to be seen. Hajime focused on it, trying to remember it like this, as if it would erase the horrific imagery he saw in the stimulation, still vivid before his eyes.

It wasn’t real.

But the emotions and thoughts that caused Nagito to plan and do it were. He can’t ignore them.

Hajime wanted to understand them. Because only after understanding them, could he fight them.

He sighed again, standing up from his chair, removing his hand from the pod. Before leaving, he took another quick glance at the boy…

Was he giving him too much credit? Thinking about it, there was nothing that could guarantee he wouldn’t just try to murder them again if… when he finally wakes up. Hajime shook his head, trying to chase away that thought.

That thought, wasn’t it the same that caused Nagito to try to kill them all? Hajime knew he shouldn’t give up to it. He was preparing to show it wasn’t true. To prove that each one of them deserved a second chance. A chance to build a new shining future.

“I will come again soon.”

\---

“Hey… I have researched your medical files…”

Hajime spoke quietly, still knowing nobody could hear him, and this probably had made his voice even more sad. Of course, Nagito didn’t answer, giving no signs that he’s listening, or even that he’s alive, although the latter was proven by the image on the monitor checking his vital signs, and his quiet, even breathing – a little bit too even, Hajime would say.

Three weeks had passed since the first person woke up, and it gave a much-needed morale boost to everyone who remained on Jabberwock Island. A ray of hope, Hajime would say, but using that word in this context didn’t seem right anymore. Mikan Tsumiki had opened her eyes at that morning, scared and confused and too intimidated to even leave her pod for hours, but thankfully Despair Disease didn’t seem to carry on into the real world. After that, the process of waking everyone up was slowed down a bit, since a lot of effort was spent on explaining everything to her, and making sure to deal with any complications in time.

But after that, everyone doubled their efforts. As the idea of waking their friends up turned from a miracle into a plausible possibility, Hajime could see the light return into Sonia’s and Fuyuhiko’s eyes, as he saw the princess leave Gundham’s side without trails on her cheek for the first time since their arrival on the real Jabberwock Island. They all were working, now knowing that their efforts would be eventually rewarded.

And Mikan was happy to join them. It was actually her idea to check everyone’s medical profiles – it would help to adjust the amount and the quality of food and meds they were getting, and to take care of any medical issues, if anyone had them. And, as Hajime figured out soon, they had a lot…

Reading Nekomaru’s file was just… painful. He was lucky Mikan got to wake up so fast – without extra meds and care from the nurse, he could’ve been dead before ever opening his eyes again.

And Nagito’s… Hajime didn’t know many of all those fancy medical words in his profile, but he clearly understood one thing – by all odds, he should’ve already been long dead.

But he wasn’t, instead continuing to plague Hajime’s mind with his existence, making him think and think and think about him, and everything he said and did way too much…

“When you said that… you have not much time left, and it would be too lonely to die alone, I didn’t know if I should believe you,” Hajime said, still not waiting for an answer, taking a seat in a chair conveniently placed near the capsule. “In fact, I probably just… didn’t want to believe it. Just like you didn’t want me to get too close, I didn’t want to let my weird… attraction grow stronger than it already was,” – he sighed. He still didn’t know why was he coming back to talk to a wall of glass, but if he wanted to get it all off his chest, Nagito was as good of a listener as anyone. After all, everyone else here has too much of their own emotional baggage to deal with.

“I want to say ‘damn, I wish I could figure it out earlier’, but in fact I just… chose to run away, didn’t I?” he asked, looking at Nagito attentively, trying to find any motion, any reaction, even if it was just his eyelids trembling or his mouth twitching, but there was nothing.

If he was awake, what would he say?

Would he put himself down, saying nobody should care about stuff like this anyway, every self-loathing remark hitting harder now, when Hajime knew it wasn’t all just for attention? Would he sneer and giggle, saying he’s surprised a Reserve Course fool like him could figure it out at all, pretending it’s impressive that he’s even able to read? Would he still try to take it back? Would he just ask to be left alone?

Hajime didn’t know, and this lack of knowledge was the worst. But at least now he knew it was possible to figure it out.

To fix it all.

This time he left without saying anything.

\---

“Hello there… At least, now I have a good excuse to come.”

Hajime scratched the back of his head with his right hand, smiling slightly, holding a bucket full of cloths in his other one. At first, the manner of still gesturing, mimicking, adding intonations to his voice while talking to his sleeping classmates seemed weird to him. Now, he wished to keep it. By treating them like living people, he could remind himself they’re still alive. They would wake up.

Hajime came closer to the pod. After a short hesitation, he opened it. Thankfully, people in the capsules were still able to breathe properly, and support their own heartbeat. Their conscious minds were just… not responding. They’re just sleeping, they’re not dead, Hajime repeated again, looking at Nagito’s calm, pale face.

“Mikan told me your immune system is weakened and even the smallest sickness can turn into huge trouble when it comes to you, so we should keep you nice and warm,” he explained, and he didn’t know to who, but doing something like this without words felt a bit too awkward. “So I decided to bring you some warm blankets…” – Hajime’s face ran red for some reason, and the fact that it happened even when he knew for sure nobody could see or hear him anyway only made him feel more awkward.

He put his hands on Nagito’s shoulders. First, he needed to place the cloth under his body, so he lifted him up slightly, making him take a sitting position. He didn’t react. Didn’t respond. His skin was really pale and unnaturally cold. It was almost the same as turning around the hand of the corpse, to examine the blood pattern… Hajime shook his head quickly. He shouldn’t think about it in this way. He carefully placed a blanket over Nagito’s shoulders and gently put him back, returning to a lying position. Then took another one, and covered his chest. He was breathing. The corpse had not been breathing. There were no wounds and not a single drop of blood, but Hajime couldn’t shake the sense of uneasiness completely.

There was a hand in the pod, and it was not Nagito’s hand. Hajime preferred to not think about it when he covered it with another piece of cloth.

His hand… At first, Hajime thought they should just cut it off. But for some reason, it wasn’t rotting, and didn’t seem to affect anything in Nagito’s body at all, as if was just a morbid accessory he was wearing instead of a decaying piece of human flesh. Junko’s Enoshima’s flesh that he decided to made into a part of himself.

Another part of himself that Hajime needed to figure out. To understand. To accept. He touched Junko’s hand lightly. It was cold. He traced his finger up, to Nagito’s own shoulder, just to make sure it was a bit less cold. He waited for a short minute, until it could become warm. Only after that he closed the pod and stood up from his chair.

“I’ll come back tomorrow.”

So he did. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. He felt like he needed to.

\---

“Hello… I hope Mikan was gentle with you today…”

Talking to Nagito didn’t feel weird anymore, probably because Hajime was doing it for so long. He came closer to the pod, hesitant, clutching a small box to his chest. He was the only one who kept visiting that place, except Sonia, who was coming to everyone and insisting that no friend should be abandoned since Gundham woke up, and Mikan, who was now taking care of them, moving their limbs and massaging them so their muscles wouldn’t atrophy from not being used.

Hajime offered his help. So did Sonia, and Mahiru. But Mikan insisted on doing it all alone, because nobody else was qualified enough, and to not feel useless, Hajime suspected, but of course he would never say such a thing.

“Everyone is waking up, slowly, but surely. The first was Mikan. Probably because knowing it was not real made it easier to her brain to cope. Then it was Mahiru, Hiyoko, Ibuki… and now Nekomaru and Gundham are with us as well,” he spoke with a slight smile, unable to contain the pride in his voice completely. But there was no reaction, as always, and it quickly made him frown again as he sat down near the pod.

How would Nagito even react? Would he be happy of this “hopeful” outcome, praising everyone for defeating Junko and overcoming their despair? Would he be mad that the incarnations of everything he hated were allowed to live again? Would he feel defeated? Maybe he could celebrate this defeat.

He surely wouldn’t be lying there so calmly, breathing slowly.

In this state, he couldn’t hurt and confuse them anymore. Couldn’t do anything dumb and stupid and dangerous to himself and others. Couldn’t bring any more pain to them. And to himself.

Couldn’t see the hopeful outcomes he was yearning for. Couldn’t help them to achieve it. Couldn’t drop roundabout hints and silent clues leading to the goal they pursued. Couldn’t explore the real Jabberwock, much bigger and grander, with Hajime. Couldn’t talk to him. Couldn’t make him feel special.

Now, when he didn't have to fear for his life, the thought that everything good and bad was now not here started to sink in again, making his chest heavy. He felt guilt. For deciding to take the offer and joining Kamukura project, mostly. For starting the mess they all found themselves in, for letting Junko sneak in, allowing her to drag them all into an awful killing game, and eventually to tell Nagito what he shouldn’t have known.

Of course, there was something more personal in this guilt too. He felt the regret of not taking more effort to reach out. To understand. To show more kindness… Would that be enough? Hajime wasn’t sure. Actually, he was more sure that only that wouldn’t have been enough to stop the tragedy from happening… But he still regretted not trying. Not taking a chance, just standing there, watching how someone who he once called a friend succumbs to his own insanity at best, and actively speeding up the process at worst, clueless what to do.

Hajime shook his head. It was the person who tried to kill him, he had to remind himself. The one who was ready to confuse them, mess with them, make them scared for their lives, actually risk their lives, all for the sake of a weird idea he still couldn’t completely understand. But he wanted to understand… no, needed to.

“Hey, can you hear me?” he asked again, still not sure why and for what. That phrase was… special for him, probably. Like a symbol, a memory of a kind, carefree boy who once helped him when he was in need. Approached him and tried to be his friend. He spent hours and days trying to figure out how much of that boy was real, and how much was just a twisted, cruel lie. And how he was still looking at him. Nagito’s eyelids twitched slightly in a barely noticeable motion, as if he was seeing a dream.

What he was dreaming of? Was it a happy and hopeful world, or the one where they all burned in hell, dragged there by Monokuma’s claws? Hajime wished to know it.

“I brought you something,” he suddenly spoke, opening a box hesitantly. Inside was a mechanical hand, fancy, cold and shiny. “I asked Kazuichi to make this for you… Convincing the Future Foundation to allocate resources for this was pain in the ass, Makoto said,” he added with a slight smile. He imagined Nagito with shining eyes, clapping his hands and gushing about how great Makoto, The True Ultimate Hope is, and it was enough to elicit a soft giggle.

“And, um, these are from me,” Hajime said hesitantly, putting the hand on the table near the pod and taking out what was underneath it. “These are books. After you wake up, we would have to place you under watch until we’re convinced you aren’t immediate threat to yourself and others… so you’ll probably need them for a while,” he explained with a soft smile. Nagito still didn’t react, without the slightest movement on his face, but Hajime was ready to swear he now looked at him slightly mockingly.

“Hey, you would be more grateful if you knew how hard was to get these on this damn island. There’s no convenient, perfectly-organized library with everything in excellent condition waiting for you,” he spoke with slight annoyance, but the soft smile never left his face. “These are detective books… Figured out you’d like them from looking around your cottage…” – he frowned slightly, trying not to think about the context of that visit. “Although I have no idea if you do like them or just used them to create and solve all those mysteries…” – he sighed. He probably was just overthinking. Nagito was just a person, he had to remind himself. A person who was allowed to just like and dislike some things.

If Hajime was more open to the thought that he was not as incomprehensible as he seemed from the beginning, the story could’ve ended differently.

This time, it will end differently…!

“Hope we’ll get to enjoy them soon together,” Hajime said, putting the hand back in the box and leaving it besides the pod. “I would read them for you now, but that would be too stupid, right…?” he asked, looking at the other boy, who was still lying there, quiet and motionless and unable to answer… but alive. Breathing and thinking. His face still didn’t move an inch, and the expression of sadness was surely just Hajime’s all-too-vivid imagination, amplified by stress and overworking himself…

“Okay, okay. Just one chapter, no more,” he said with a sigh, opening the book and thinking what he would say to Mikan and Kazuichi when they would eventually ask what took him so long.

\---

Nagito’s consciousness was drifting in and out, as his weak and broken and failing body was clinging to its life desperately when all his mind wanted was a swift, merciful end. He didn’t even have the energy to convince himself it was what should’ve happened to people like him, to those who are too weak and too easy to break and drag to despair – he was just wishing, pleading, begging for it to stop already. Even now, his limbs continued to try to jerk away from the fire, all the pathetic attempts at motion with muscles that shouldn’t be able to move prolonging the pain that should’ve ended long ago.

Flashes of agony were followed by periods of numbness, while he was drifting away in daze, feeling like his body no longer belonged to him. It probably didn’t, as he couldn’t recall the last time when he was moving consciously, by his own free will… Right now he was feeling nothing except the pressure of the metal that got a bit stronger as he took each breath, and a bit weaker as he let it out. He tried to ignore it, to not think about what was causing it.

“Hey, can you hear me…?”

The voice in his head was all too clear, way closer and louder than the music, and the fire, and his own quiet muffled screams. It was Hajime’s voice, he recognized immediately. The voice he was searching for for so long… Of course, Hajime couldn’t have been that close. It was his imagination running wild, he knew it, but he still found the strength to feel a little grateful for this small gift from his delirious consciousness. He was living in delusions for so long, so why not allow himself that weakness one more time?

“Are you okay?” the voice repeated, now even closer, and he could’ve sworn he felt someone leaning over him if he didn’t know for a fact it was not possible, unless Hajime somehow found out the new talent of running through the fire and breathing highly toxic substances without any harm to his sweet, calming voice. “You look like you’re hurt, is it your hand?” – the voice now was worried and concerned. His hand… He tried to twitch his fingers, but for some reason he couldn’t.

“Hey, open your eyes, I see you aren’t sleeping anymore.” – the voice became demanding, annoyed even. Hajime being annoyed and not worried or concerned, it seemed like his delusions started to fit into reality a bit more, imitating it better. He sighed, and it suddenly made him realize he wasn’t screaming anymore.

He obeyed, opening his eyes, and immediately squinted from the bright light, instinctively covering his eyes with his left hand. His left hand… for some reason, it wasn’t tied up or injured anymore, he noticed as he slowly got used to the light. Hajime was leaning over him slightly, his face worried and uncertain. He wasn’t lying on the floor in the warehouse, that thought was slow to come and hard to sink in, but the floor beneath him was warm and soft, there was no knife and no spear in his flesh, and not a single drop of his blood was shed there anymore. His body wasn’t too numb to the pain – there was just no pain, and that feeling was so alien and unfamiliar it almost made him feel dizzy from the sudden switch.

“You must be so confused right now,” Hajime said quietly, as if he didn’t want to scare him off. Nagito blinked, and looked at his hand… It wasn’t his anymore, and realizing that evoked a flash of memories, distant and not so distant, forgotten and not so forgotten.

Hope’s Peak Academy. Chiaki Nanami, lying in a pool of her own blood. Junko Enoshima. The Tragedy. Neo World Program. Fixing what they’d done and giving the world’s future back to it… These words and concepts were familiar, but not enough to make total sense.

“Probably more confused than I was there on the beach,” Hajime spoke again, this time with a nostalgic smile. The beach and the killing game, those were the parts he remembered all too well, but still failed to make sense of. “But don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything. After a mandatory physical and mental health check up, of course…” – he smiled awkwardly.

Nagito wasn’t sure how to respond, with so many emotions twisting in his head to the point where he was unable to feel any of them properly. He probably should’ve been mad, enraged that his scheme failed, if Hajime was still alive… But for now he thought he should just obey until he knows more.

Hajime reached out his hand, smiling.

If it was reality, he could gladly accept this reality.

If it wasn’t, he would enjoy whatever his mind prepared until it gets crushed, to make the suffering from seeing it crumble more deserved.

But Hajime seemed so real, more real than on the beach, more real than anything he had seen in his life.

Nagito reached back and allowed him to grab his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Hello there.  
> As I said, it wasn't in my original plan for the fic, but I was kind of feeling bad for Komaeda so here it is.  
> In any case, thanks to everyone who gave feedback and support, and to everyone who just read this fic in general. Hope it was an enjoyable experience.
> 
> Thanks to Izum for beta read.  
> And to Tunie for helping to beta read Chapters 2 and 3.


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